


Teenage Kicks

by shaggydogstail



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coming Out, Friendship, Growing Up, Homophobic Language, M/M, Music, Queer Themes, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship, Teen Crush, The Hobgoblins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 02:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15038747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaggydogstail/pseuds/shaggydogstail
Summary: Sirius starts to grow up, dyes his hair, and falls in love with a rock star.





	Teenage Kicks

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my beta, caishaurianne.
> 
> I wrote first posted this story on LiveJournal a few years back, and decided to dust it off and repost for Pride Month. Enjoy!

The Hobgoblins were the archetypal new rock stars—brash, loud and brimming with barely-suppressed rage at the rest of the music industry and the world in general. _Hex_! magazine called them the saviours of the British Magical Music scene, a thrilling antidote to bloated old troopers like Celestina Warbeck and Merlin’s Mystique. Their lead singer, Stubby Boardman, was an urban poet with blue streaks charmed into his matte black hair, a tattoo of a Peruvian Vipertooth on his left hip and a voice that terrified a whole generation of parents.

He changed Sirius Black’s life forever.

~*~

Sirius may have called James a ‘myopic bastard with the aim of a troll’ at the time, but he would later have good cause to thank his friend for breaking his arm with a badly-fired bludger during a practice session in the Potters’ back garden. If Mrs Potter hadn’t insisted that he spent the rest of the day in bed recovering, it wouldn’t have occurred to him to turn on the Wizarding Wireless Network to drown out James’ incessant chatter about Quidditch tactics. (Sirius liked to watch and play well enough, but even he sometimes got bored with James’ endless prattling about defensive formations and the Wronski Feint. Sirius was one of those people who considered Quidditch to be more of a sport than a religion.)

So it was sheer chance that Sirius heard the first ever broadcast of the Hobgoblins’ second single, _Mandrake Heartbreak_ , on the WWN’s ‘youth’ programme, _Cursed_. The presenter, a rather excitable young witch called Pandora, explained in breathless tones that the Hobgoblins were the hottest thing to come out of Chipping Sodbury since the Alchemites and the heralds of a new musical revolution.

Sirius barely heard a word of her chatter; he was transfixed by clashing, discordant sounds of the guitar riff, the low whine of the lyra-flute and the rough, sensual timbre of Stubby’s voice.

‘That,’ he announced firmly as the last chords died away, ‘was bloody brilliant.’

James shrugged. ‘S’all right if you like that sort of thing,’ he said, looking up briefly from a biography of the Wimbourne Wasps. ‘Bit loud, though.’

Sometimes Sirius despaired of his best friend. But then, James still whistled the nursery rhymes his mother used to sing to him, so it wasn’t any great surprise that his taste in music left a great deal to be desired. The song stayed with him, and Sirius found himself mumbling the lyrics beneath his breath during dinner, as he brushed his teeth before bed, and in his last moments of consciousness before he drifted off to sleep. _Mandrake heartbreak, the screaming knocked me out, I don’t know what it’s all about, and I don’t know how much of this I can take_.

~*~

When Sirius woke up the next morning, he was on a mission; he needed to hear more of the Hobgoblins. Since he was only staying at the Potters for another two days, this task had to be completed quickly. (The only music normally heard in the Black household was stilted performances on the pianoforte or harpsichord at social functions.) It took a concerted campaign of nagging, pleading and pouting to convince Mrs Potter that he was well enough to be allowed out, culminating in Sirius threatening to turn cartwheels around the kitchen to prove that his arm was mended. No doubt fearing for her crockery and sanity in equal measure, Mrs Potter shooed Sirius and James towards the fireplace and allowed them to Floo to Diagon Alley, several thousand instructions about being careful and keeping out of trouble ringing in their ears.

‘Where to first, then?’ asked James when they stumbled out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron. ‘I thought maybe Quality Quidditch Supplies for starters, then Gambol and Japes and the Fortescue’s for lunch. Oh, and I need to pop into the Magical Menagerie to get some tonic for Dad’s toads.’

Sirius barely heard him. ‘We’re not hanging around here. We need to go to Symphonic Alley.’

‘Need to buy a new string for your violin, do you?’ James smirked.

Sirius just rolled his eyes and set off towards Diagon Alley, James following reluctantly in his wake.

Symphonic Alley was at the far end of Diagon Alley, just past Ollivander’s wand shop. James groaned in frustration as Sirius marched past all of his favourite stores on the way, but Sirius was too focused on his destination to pay any real attention. Symphonic Alley was smaller and narrower than Diagon Alley, with a cobbled street and wind chimes hanging from the street lamps. The windows of the shops displayed an array of musical instruments, from harps to banjos, steam-powered guitars to troll-foot drums. The street bore witness to a cacophony of sound coming from the various shops and buskers on the pavements, but each shop had charms to isolate its own noise, so that different music was heard every few steps. The effect was that walking down the street was rather like turning dial on a radio to tune into different stations in quick succession.

‘Do you even know which shop you’re looking for?’ asked James testily. He had to raise his voice above the booming drums coming from Pangbourne’s Percussion.

‘Of course,’ Sirius insisted as he kept walking past an antique harp store, Taliesin’s Libretti Bookstore, and Terpsichore’s Dance Academy. Finally, he stopped outside a run-down looking building with darkened windows and tattered posters on the door. He glanced up at the sign, which bore the word “Hathorian’s” in peeling gold letters. ‘This is the place,’ he told James, before pushing open the door and stepping inside.

James was clearly rather dubious about the whole thing, but followed Sirius in anyway. The interior of the shop was dimly lit and the clientele wore strange, ripped clothing and painful looking piercings. ‘How do you even know about this place?’ James whispered in Sirius’ ear as they approached the counter. 

‘Sheet music shop on the other side of the road,’ Sirius told him. ‘Mum used to make me stand outside for making too much noise.’

After much hemming and hawing, Sirius bought a portable Aeolia Player. The Aeolia Player used a complex series of Charms and levers to play music from perforated sheets of parchment called songsheets, a system that was adapted for use by Muggles on self-playing pianos by Edwin Votey, a wizard who fled Britain to the United States to escape prosecution by the Improper Use of Magic Office. The machine Sirius bought was encased in red dragon hide and had settings to make it produce light, smoke and—for some pieces—scent, as well as music.

‘How much are you planning to spend?’ asked James as Sirius picked up a copy of _Hex_! magazine to add to the Aeolia Player, two singles and an album that the purple-haired shop assistant was bagging up for him.

‘It’s only money,’ said Sirius indifferently, tipping a pile of galleons into the assistant’s outstretched hand. The growing discord between Sirius and his parents hadn’t yet resulted in any cut in pocket-money—it simply wouldn’t be right for the scion of the House of Black to ever be seen to be short of cash.

‘All this for some song you heard once on the wireless,’ said James.

‘Not just any song.’ Sirius contradicted him, hugging the bag with his purchases close to his chest. ‘The _best_ song ever.’

~*~

Sirius became even more convinced that he was right over the remainder of the holidays, which, upon his return to Grimmauld Place, were spent mostly holed up in his room listening to the Hobgoblins for hours on end and rereading the article in _Hex!_ until he had the entire piece committed to memory. The Hobgoblins’ songs about love and loneliness, anger and teenage frustration spoke to Sirius in a way that no-one he knew, not even James, ever could.

Stubby was smart, rebellious and free and, well, everything Sirius wanted to be himself, really. Sirius could tell all this from reading the 500 word interview. He also looked incredibly cool, with his strange mix of Muggle and wizards’ clothing, coloured hair and Ashwinder fang earring. Sirius resolved to pierce his own ear as soon as he got back to school (he did try to do it at home, but Kreacher interrupted him and he nearly took his eye out).

Sirius was so absorbed in his new obsession that he completely forgot that he was meant to be using his parents’ library to study for the Animagus project, since he couldn’t get all the books he needed at school. (Sirius thought it was most unreasonable that Madam Pince had put up special charms to _specifically_ keep him and his friends out of the Restricted Section.) It was only the owl he received from Remus, telling him that he’d been made a prefect, that reminded Sirius and, luckily, gave him the inspiration for the perfect plan to get around it.

‘I see you failed to be appointed as a prefect,’ commented Walburga Black when Sirius handed her his book list for the coming term over dinner.

Sirius took a deep breath and arranged his face into what he hoped was a plausibly sincere expression of regret. ‘I don’t think Dumbledore believes a Black could adequately represent Gryffindor house,’ he said in the most respectful tone he could muster.

‘Hmph.’ Walburga frowned, apparently unable to decide between using the opportunity to berate her son’s poor behaviour or the headmaster’s Muggle-loving foolishness.

‘I don’t think Professor McGonagall likes me much either,’ Sirius continued, pushing his peas around his plate. ‘I asked if I could bring some extra textbooks from home, and she said I wasn’t allowed because it wasn’t fair on Muggle-born students who didn’t have magical libraries at home.’ Sirius paused for effect, staring down at his plate and trying to avoid the deeply suspicious glances Regulus was shooting across the dinner table. ‘She said something about them not being appropriate, anyway; I expect she assumed they’d all be about the Dark Arts or something.’

Walburga Black snorted in disgust. ‘Minerva McGonagall always was a stuck-up, self-righteous little busybody,’ she said. ‘You take anything you need from the library, Sirius. If any of those blood-traitor wretches that call themselves your teachers don’t like it, they’ll have me to deal with.’

‘Thank-you, Mother,’ said Sirius, as meekly as he could. He could see Regulus practically exploding with the need to say something to get him into trouble. ‘I could have a look for some extra Charms texts for Regulus as well if you’d like,’ he said innocently. ‘Can’t have him failing the subject two years in a row.’

‘It wasn’t my fault!’ whined Regulus loudly. ‘Someone hexed me on the way into the exam room.’

Sirius didn’t say anything, just ate his peas and tried not to snigger.

‘You’re such a liar,’ said Regulus when he appeared in the doorway of Sirius’ bedroom later that evening. ‘What are you really up to?’

‘Piss off, Reggie,’ said Sirius eloquently, lobbing a copy of _Charms for Ye Stupides_ at his brother’s head. He lay down on his bed, turned up his Aeolia player and leant against a large biography of famous Animagi to compose letters to James, Remus and Peter, telling them at length about his own devious genius and how it reminded him of the b-side to the Hobgoblin’s first single.

~*~

Returning to school and all the distractions of Quidditch, pranks, tormenting Slytherins and lessons did nothing to dampen Sirius’ growing obsession with the Hobgoblins. He took out a subscription to _Hex!_ Magazine, which was delivered weekly by owl post, and pinned a poster of Stubby Boardman to the wall beside his bed. Much to James’ confusion and hilarity, he also started adapting his wardrobe to look more like Stubby’s. Sirius’ attempts at piercing his ear left the bathroom looking as though a murder had been committed, but he was convinced that the results were worth it.

‘Why’s he called Stubby anyway?’ asked Peter one afternoon, after Sirius insisted on playing bootleg recordings of a Hobgoblin’s gig at Greater Clacton for them for the fourteenth time that week. ‘Parents must be a bit odd to give their kid a name like that.’

Sirius rolled his eyes. ‘Well obviously Stubby isn’t his _real_ name,’ he said. ‘His real name is Sebastian. Stubby’s just a nickname.’

‘Because he’s got a really small penis?’ suggested James helpfully, before ducking to avoid the pillow Sirius aimed at him.

‘No, you twat,’ said Sirius. ‘It’s because the ends of two of the fingers on his left hand are missing. Got attacked by a grindylow.’

‘And what was he doing to be attacked by a grindylow?’ asked Remus pleasantly. ‘Other than being the saviour of modern music, of course?’

Sirius scowled at him. ‘Tripped and landed in a pond after drinking a whole bottle of Firewhisky,’ he said, in a tone that suggested falling down drunk into waterways was a terrific achievement.

‘Oh,’ said Remus, sounding vaguely disappointed. ‘I was hoping it would be something more impressive.

‘Careful, now.’ James grinned mischievously. ‘Don’t go insulting Stubby, or Sirius might have to duel you for his honour.’

‘Piss off, James,’ yelped Sirius as he threw himself at James for a fight that might very well have turned nasty if Peter hadn’t reminded them that they were late for dinner and it was plum duff for pudding.

~*~

On the rare occasions when he wasn’t committing Hobgoblins’ lyrics to memory, Sirius continued to work on the Animagus project with James and Peter.

‘Any idea what animal you think you’ll be?’ Peter asked. It was a question they all considered with predictable regularity—Peter in particular worried about having an embarrassing animal form, like a caterpillar or a skunk.

‘No,’ said James thoughtfully, sucking on the end of his quill. ‘Although I keep getting the urge to go running over hillsides. I think that might be a clue.’

‘Best hope you’re not going to turn into a rabbit,’ teased Sirius. ‘The wolf will eat you.’ He omitted to mention that he frequently experienced a burning desire to have someone rub his tummy, and the fact that he’d recently spent more time thinking about what Stubby’s Animagus form would be than his own. Sirius thought Stubby would turn into a cougar or something really cool like that, and very much hoped that he would too. He really hoped he wasn’t a pigeon, as he’d read in a copy of _Witch Weekly_ that Heliotrope Hexington left in the common room that Stubby hated pigeons ever since one of them crapped on him on his first day at school.

‘Oi, Earth to Sirius.’ Sirius was pulled out of his reverie by James snapping his fingers in front of his face. ‘Honestly, mate, if you get any slower you’re going to turn into a tortoise.’

‘Yeah, right,’ muttered Sirius, pulling his attention back to the matter at hand and away from his daydreams. ‘So, we’ve just got to work out how to personalise the incantation of the self-switching spell and then we should be ready to try it out, yeah?’

‘That’s right,’ said James. ‘Now I think what we have to do is start off by calculating the Arithmatic root from our date of birth and then…’

~*~

It was only another three weeks, half way through Spring term, until Sirius turned into a dog for the very first time. (James and Peter cracked the transformation a day and a fortnight later, respectively.) The uncanny resemblance between the big, shaggy dog and the cover art for the Hobgoblins’ third single _Hecate’s Handbag_ sent Sirius into paroxysms of joy that even the worst of James’ teasing couldn’t suppress.

Never being one to rate patience highly among the virtues, Sirius insisted on showing off his Animagus form the moment Remus got back from prefect patrols that evening. James and Peter were ordered to hide behind their bed curtains to increase the surprise (or allow Sirius to show off even more, as James put it).

It was approaching midnight when a very tired Remus came into an apparently empty dormitory, only to be tackled moments later by a flying bundle of black fur and doggy-breath.

‘Wha—’ Remus yelped in terror as he was knocked to the floor and drew his hands up protectively in front of his face. Dismayed, Sirius moved back and whined slightly, tilting his head to one side in a bid to look like a loveable mutt rather than a dangerous stray dog. Remus still looked rather frightened, and blinked in confusion until the muffled sound of Peter’s laughter came from the corner of the dormitory.

‘Oh,’ said Remus, a look of comprehension dawning on his face as he stood up. He looked down at Sirius. ‘You did it?’

‘Arf!’ Sirius barked joyfully, his tail wagging frantically from side to side

‘And the others are hiding because I’m supposed to guess which one you are?’ Remus smiled.

‘Arf! Arf!’ Sirius bounded from side to side, looking progressively more and more excited.

Remus paused for a moment, looking contemplative. ‘Sirius.’

The dog disappeared, leaving Sirius crouching on all fours on the ground. ‘Still got to perfect the change back,’ he announced cheerfully as he stood up, shaking his hair back into place.

‘How did you know it was him?’ asked Peter as he climbed out of his own bed to join them.

‘Simple.’ Remus grinned. ‘Sirius is easily the most doggy out of the three of you.’

‘Haven’t been caught humping anyone’s leg, have you?’ asked James as he joined them.

‘Hey!’ said Sirius. ‘You’re just jealous because you can’t do it yet. And there’s still no guarantee you won’t turn into an earwig.’

‘It was more the way you keep sniffing things recently,’ Remus told him. ‘And the fact that you practically growled when Peter moved your Aeolia Player the other day.’

‘He could have dropped it!’ exclaimed Sirius. The mere memory of the incident gave him chills. ‘Anyway, never mind about that—what did you think?’

‘I think…’ Remus paused, looking slightly choked. ‘I think it’s brilliant. Do it again.’

Ever eager to show off, Sirius transformed back into a dog and bounded around the dormitory a couple of times, jumping over each of the four beds in turn before setting about chewing Peter’s slippers.

‘OK, you can change back now,’ said Remus, laughing as he sat down on his own (now rather messy) bed. Sirius changed back, this time emerging as a human lying flat on his stomach on the dormitory floor. ‘I still can’t believe it,’ Remus continued, awestruck.

‘I know,’ crowed Sirius, raising his hands above his head in triumph as he stood. ‘I am a _genius_.’

‘Are you _sure_ it’s safe?’ asked Remus.

‘For the millionth time, _yes_ ,’ said James, as Sirius was too busy looking pleased with himself to answer. ‘No-one’s been hurt, and me and Peter are nearly done as well. The next full moon is nearly three weeks away, and by that time we should all be able to do it.’

‘I still…’ Remus blinked. ‘I still can’t believe it.’

‘Oh, will you stop mithering and throw something for me, you ungrateful bastard.’ Sirius was practically bouncing with excitement before he transformed once again and stuck his front paws in Remus’ lap, barking enthusiastically.

Remus relented and found a balled-up pair of socks to throw, and soon the three boys and the dog were enjoying a raucous game of fetch in the dormitory. They only quietened down after James, in a bid to test just how well Sirius’ human mind functioned when he was in dog form, threatened to throw his Hobgoblins songsheets for the dog to fetch, earning him a sharp nip on the backside.

~*~

As is so often the way with rising musical stars, the Hobgoblins soon passed over from heralds of a new musical dawn into mainstream pop idols, regularly featured in the _Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly_ and _Charming_ (a glossy magazine for the discerning teen witch). By the time summer term rolled around, they were no longer the preserve of teenage boys with dark hair and anger management issues; they were the darlings of teenyboppers everywhere and Stubby was suddenly a heart-throb.

Naturally, Sirius was disgusted with the influx of new fans. He’d got into the Hobgoblins months ago, not like all those bloody first-years suddenly singing _Hecate’s Handbag_ in the common room. They weren’t true fans like him. They’d never written Stubby any poetry. (Sirius had a book of self-penned poems about or inspired by the Hobgoblins, which he kept hidden under his pillow at all times. Unsurprisingly, the poems were universally awful.)

Heliotrope Hexington was exactly the sort of Hobgoblins fan that Sirius despised and felt immeasurably superior to. She had blue streaks in her hair, which Sirius thought looked ridiculous because her hair was brown, not black, her schoolbooks were covered in doodles of love hearts and the initials ‘SB’ and she generally behaved in a thoroughly revolting manner.

It wasn't that she was in the same year as Sirius. It hardly mattered that she was in the same house. It was merely annoying that she sat next to him in Charms, having been the first to find a spot when Professor Flitwick permanently banned him and James from sitting together.

Her opportunity to really ruin Sirius' life came from the fact that we was also best friends with Lily Evans.

‘Oh, come on, Padfoot,’ James wheedled for what must have been at least the millionth time. ‘It wouldn’t hurt you to go out with her just once. She’s fancied you for ages, you know.’

‘Prongs, I am not taking some soppy bird to Madam Puddifoot’s just to try and talk her into putting in a good word for you with Evans,’ Sirius replied, barely looking up from the preview of the forthcoming Hobgoblins album he was reading in _Hex!_ Honestly, what did a person have to do to get five minutes peace in their own house common room? ‘What makes you so sure she fancies me, anyway?’

‘The fact that she’s got your initials written in love hearts all over her textbooks?’ said James, pushing the magazine down so that Sirius was forced to pay attention.

‘She’s got Stubby Boardman’s initials all over her textbooks,’ said Sirius tersely. ‘Idiotic, soppy girl.’

‘Oh,’ said James, looking surprised. ‘I never thought about that. Still, she definitely likes you. I’ve seen her looking at you in class.’

‘Probably just staring vacantly into the middle distance.’

‘Actually,’ James continued, turning Sirius’ magazine around to look at the pictures. ‘You look a bit like him as well.’

This changed Sirius attitude completely. ‘Really?’ he asked, trying not to sound too eager. ‘Do you really think so?’

‘Yeah,’ said James, glancing between Sirius’ face and the magazine in his lap. ‘Quite similar. Except you’re a bit… prettier.’

‘Hmph,’ scoffed Sirius. ‘Sure you don’t want to take me to Madam Puddifoot’s yourself?’

To Sirius’ surprise, James didn’t thump him or come back with a witty retort: he looked oddly contemplative for a moment then grabbed Sirius and kissed him on the forehead. ‘You are a bloody genius!’ he exclaimed loudly. ‘I knew there was a reason I was friends with you.’

‘Well, of course,’ said Sirius, nonplussed.

‘We can go on a double-date!’ said James. ‘You, me, Hexington and Evans. It’s _brilliant_!’

Sirius sighed. There really was no arguing with James when he was in this mood. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘If you can get Evans and Hexington to agree to this farce, I’ll come along as well, OK?’

‘Knew I could rely on you,’ said James happily, settling down next to Sirius on the sofa.

‘Mm,’ Sirius muttered noncommittally. He was more or less relying on either Evans or Hexington refusing his friend’s ridiculous scheme. Still, he was glad of a bit of peace at last, and allowed James to lean against him, reading the magazine over his shoulder.

‘What’s wrong with his mouth?’ asked James after a few peaceful moments. He indicated the photograph of Stubby outside the International Portkey Department at the Ministry of Magic, taken before the Hobgoblins’ American tour.

‘It’s a gold tooth,’ Sirius told him.

‘Oh,’ said James. ‘Flash.’

Sirius waited another few moments before responding. ‘D’ya think it tastes funny, a gold tooth?’

‘Dunno.’ James shrugged. ‘Why, are you thinking of getting one?’

It was only after James had left to go and look for Lily that Sirius realised that wasn’t what he was thinking about at all.

~*~

‘Have you completely lost your mind, Evans?’ 

Lily started as Sirius grabbed her sleeve on the way out of the Great Hall the following morning.

‘What?’ She pulled her arm away and turned to Sirius, looking furious. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘James told me that you agreed to this ridiculous charade of a double-date that he’s cooked up,’ Sirius told her, glaring back with equal ferocity.

‘I told him I’d agree if you did,’ Lily explained. ‘Since it’s pretty obvious that you’re as likely to want to go out with Heliotrope as I am to… well, to go out with Potter.’

Sirius rolled his eyes. ‘I’d already told James I’d only do it if you did,’ he said. ‘I was sure that you’d—’

‘—say no,’ Lily finished for him. ‘I was counting on you saying no. Potter omitted to mention that he’d already asked you.’

‘Conniving bastard,’ said Sirius grimly. ‘Stitched us up like a right pair of kippers.’

‘There’s no way out, is there?’ said Lily grimly. Suddenly she and Sirius were no longer at loggerheads, but united by the awfulness of being embroiled in the horror of James Potter’s romantic machinations. ‘Not unless I want Heliotrope to actually kill me.’

‘Or I make James cry,’ Sirius replied. ‘You wouldn’t want to see James cry, Evans, it’s a pitiful sight.’

Lily snorted. ‘Potter is always a pitiful sight.’

‘Now, now, Evans,’ said Sirius with mock severity. ‘There's no call for that sort of attitude.’

‘Yeah, right,’ said Lily. ‘Honestly, I can’t believe I’m going to waste a perfectly good Hogsmeade weekend putting up with Potter’s pathetic attempts to impress me.’

‘I feel your pain,’ said Sirius. ‘I can think of about a million things I’d rather be doing instead of listening to Hexington babbling on at me. Still, we shall have to be strong for one another, Evans. We’ll be the only sensible ones there.’

Lily looked at him, horrified, then clapped her hand to her forehead as she turned and walked away, muttering to herself. ‘We’re _doomed_.’

~*~

As it happened, the date didn’t turn out to be quite the unmitigated disaster that Sirius had feared, at least from his point of view. Sirius and Lily conspired to ensure the actual ‘date’ portion of the day didn’t start until three o’clock, when the foursome met outside Madam Puddifoot’s. The Marauders managed to spend most of the day wandering around Zonko’s, Honeydukes, and the Three Broomsticks. Apart from having to regularly deflate James’ almost hysterical over-excitement, everything went more or less as normal (though Remus did feel the need to confiscate his sweets, as a safety precaution).

Sirius still wasn’t exactly looking forward to the date (or the All Horror Inspiring Date of Doom as he secretly liked to call it in his head), but he had promised James that he’d make an effort and be on his best behaviour. He flashed his best ‘aren’t I charming?’ smile at Heliotrope when they arrived at Madam Puddifoot’s and was genuinely cheered when they got inside and he discovered that the special of the day was coconut cake. (Coconut was one of Sirius’ top five favourite things in the world, along with the Hobgoblins, James Potter, breaking noises and sticks.) Heliotrope had brought a copy of _Sonothèque_ , a French music magazine that her cousin in Lille had sent her for the in-depth interview with Stubby Boardman it featured.

Helping Heliotrope translate the article was certainly more enjoyable than anything Sirius had imagined doing. He felt almost giddy with joy when he worked out Stubby’s answer to the question, ‘what special magical ability would you most like to possess?’:

_‘I think it would be cool to be some sort of shapeshifter, so I could change my appearance without using spells or potions. There was this boy in my class at school who was a Metamorphmagus, which was ace. I reckon it’d be worth being a vampire just to get to turn into a bat._

_In fact, if I wasn’t so busy with the Hobgoblins, I’d have liked to study to be an Animagus. Wouldn’t it be great to be able to scare people by turning into a tiger, or to fly like a bird? I’d save a fortune on new brooms!_ ’

Sirius became so pink and breathless that Heliotrope asked him if he needed to go outside to get some fresh air. It was only then Sirius realised that Lily and James had already left. He wondered whether this was a good sign—the upturned sugar bowl and the scorch marks on the napkins suggested not. _Serves Prongs right for coming up with such a damn fool idea in the first place_ , he thought as he left a galleon on the table to pay for their tea and got ready to leave.

Heliotrope insisted on holding his hand on the way back to the castle, which Sirius thought was taking concern for his welfare a bit too far. He barely heard her constant stream of chatter as they headed back to school; his head was too full of thoughts of Stubby. The only drawback to becoming an Animagus illegally was that Sirius had to keep it a secret, and he missed being able to brag about his achievement. He imagined that if he ever met Stubby, he could tell him—Stubby surely wouldn’t grass him up to Dumbledore or the Ministry. The thought of being able to impress his idol gave Sirius tingles, and he suddenly felt quite warm despite the unseasonably cool evening breeze.

Sirius was so preoccupied, he hardly noticed that they had reached the castle gates until Heliotrope—who still had a vice-like grip on Sirius’ hand—stopped abruptly. He was too startled to protest when she reached up and kissed him, so he just gave in to the kiss, enjoying the soft, warm press of lips, though his mind was still focused on the thrilling prospect of being able to win Stubby’s approval.

When Heliotrope broke the kiss and looked up at Sirius expectantly, he was almost as surprised to see her as he had been by her kissing him in the first place.

‘Well?’ she said, after Sirius remained silent for a few moments, blinking at her.

‘Er…’ Sirius really had no idea what she wanted.

‘Is there anything you’d like to ask me?’ Heliotrope said pointedly.

Sirius had the distinct impression that he was _meant_ to know what Heliotrope was driving at, but quite frankly, he didn’t have the foggiest idea. ‘Um, can I borrow that magazine?’ he asked on impulse.

Heliotrope flushed, and looked very annoyed. ‘Sometimes I think all you care about is Stubby Boardman!’ she cried, before flinging the magazine to the ground and storming off.

Sirius stared after her blankly, feeling thoroughly confused. He had no idea what he was supposed to have done wrong. ‘What's her problem?’ he muttered under his breath, and stooped to pick the magazine up off the ground before it got wet. There was a lovely picture of Stubby on the front cover and it would be a shame to let it get spoilt.

~*~

When Sirius got back to the dormitory he found Peter and Remus trying to play chess as James ranted and raved about the trials of love. He stopped shouting and pointed at Sirius when he noticed him come into the room.

‘—and this bastard,’ exclaimed James, indicating Sirius with a wave of his arm, ‘was no bloody use at all, too busy having some weird bloody threesome with that hag Hexington and bloody Stubby bollocking Boardman!’

Sirius let James’ diatribe wash over him. He usually found it was for the best when Evans caused his friend to lose his mind temporarily. ‘What happened to your eye?’ he asked.

Something purple and fizzy was oozing out of James’ left eye, so it was a fair question.

‘It’s probably best not to ask,’ Remus muttered darkly.

‘He won’t let us touch it,’ added Peter.

‘Let me look at it,’ said Sirius, crossing the room to stand in front of James and tilting his chin to get a proper look. ‘Got you good this time, didn’t she?’

Before James could argue, Sirius drew his wand with one hand while removing James’ glasses with the other. He pointed his wand at the afflicted eye and muttered an incantation. The purple liquid stopped fizzing, then turned into yellowish pus before finally disappearing. Sirius replaced James’ glasses with a satisfied smile. ‘Better?’

‘Yeah,’ said James. ‘Cheers.’

They went and sat down on the edge of Sirius’ bed, leaving Peter and Remus to get on with their chess game in peace.

‘So, was it as bad as it looked?’ asked Sirius.

‘Worse,’ said James. ‘I’d managed to get rid of the boils myself before you got back.’

Sirius winced in sympathy. ‘You know, Evans is a nice girl and all that, but she’s a bit mental.’

‘Maybe,’ said James wistfully. ‘I just don’t know where I keep going wrong.’

‘You keep going after Evans?’ suggested Sirius helpfully.

‘I’ll get there in the end, you know,’ insisted James. ‘You see if I don’t. Anyway, enough about that—how did you get on with Hexington? The two of you seemed quite cosy in Madam Puddifoot’s.’

‘Yeah, it wasn’t as bad as I expected’ admitted Sirius. ‘Although since I was expecting to be literally bored to death, my standards weren’t high.’

‘Are they ever?’ James smiled. ‘So, did you snog her?’

‘A bit.’

‘And?’

‘And what?’ asked Sirius. ‘That’s it.’

James rolled his eyes. ‘Are you going to see her again?’

‘Nah, don’t think so,’ said Sirius, flopping down on the bed. ‘She stormed off in a right huff afterwards.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I didn’t do anything!’ Sirius yelped indignantly. ‘Girl’s a nutter.’

‘Maybe you’re just crap at snogging.’

‘Fuck off, Potter,’ said Sirius, swinging at him half-heartedly with a pillow. ‘Anyway, I didn’t really get the chance to do much snogging myself… it was more a case of her attacking me with her lips. Still, she did let me keep her magazine, so it’s not all bad.’

James regarded the slightly tattered copy of _Sonothèque_ that Sirius held up with mild distaste. ‘You don’t think you’re becoming a bit too obsessed with Stubby and the Hobgoblins, do you, Padfoot?’ he said. ‘You’re never going to get a girlfriend if you carry on like this.’

Sirius shrugged, opening the magazine to look at the interview with Stubby again. ‘Not all that bothered really. Girls seem like an awful lot of bother if you ask me. I don’t think I’ve got time for all that.’

‘You’re weird.’

‘You’ve still got a boil on the back of your neck.’ Sirius lied mischievously, pointing to a spot behind James’ ear.

‘What?’ James clutched at his neck, turning uselessly. ‘I could have sworn I got rid of all the buggers.’

He got up and left for the bathroom, swearing under his breath. Sirius smiled and rolled over onto his side, happy to be able to read more about Stubby without interruption.

~*~

Heliotrope didn’t speak to Sirius for the remainder of the term, though she did seem vaguely annoyed whenever they met. It was one of the few things that he didn’t think he’d miss about Hogwarts while he was spending the summer in Grimmauld Place.

‘It won’t be too bad,’ James insisted as Sirius packed his trunk gloomily. ‘And you can come and stay with me in a couple of weeks.’

Sirius shook his head sadly. ‘Nothing doing, I’m afraid. I’ve been grounded for the whole summer because Mum found out that I’d lied about McGonagall not allowing me to bring books to school as part of some sinister anti-pureblood conspiracy.’

‘How’d she work that out?’

‘No idea,’ admitted Sirius. ‘But apparently McGonagall told her she thought it was an excellent idea that I read every single book in the family library, and she would be happy to personally supervise me doing so. If my dear old mum trusted me out of the house with her precious books, I’d have been in detention with them for months.’

‘I take it that’s what you’re spending the summer doing?’ said James sympathetically.

‘Lucky me,’ said Sirius. ‘Under the watchful eye of the house-elves’ answer to Grindelwald, as well.’

‘So, do you have a plan?’ asked James, slamming his own trunk shut and sitting on it.

‘Be generally annoying and aggravating until Mum gets so fed up of me that she lets me go to yours just to get rid of me.’

‘Ah, an excellent plan.’

‘Worked like a charm for the last four years,’ agreed Sirius. He unpinned the poster of Stubby Boardman that hung beside his bed and folded it carefully before tucking it away in his trunk, which he then locked. With a heavy sigh, he took one last look around the nearly-empty dormitory; he really wasn’t looking forward to the summer.

~*~

Upon his return to Grimmauld Place, Sirius spent as much time as possible ensconced in his room, listening to the Hobgoblins and trying to pretend he was anywhere but there. He lay on his bed, the room bathed in gold and amber light from the Aeolia Player, letting the music wash over him as Stubby’s voice soothed and comforted him.

Despite the fact that he only ventured downstairs when absolutely necessary, it took less than a week for Sirius to have a major argument with his parents. Sirius’ father was regaling the family with a story about how he’d helped force Emily McCleish, a Muggle-born witch who had recently been appointed Head of the Department of Magical Transportation, out of her job by fabricating evidence of corruption against her. Sirius vaguely knew her son, Hugh, a sixth-year Ravenclaw beater. Sirius wasn’t exactly friends with McCleish, but he seemed all right as far as Sirius could see.

‘And you’re proud of that, are you?’ asked Sirius contemptuously. ‘Getting an innocent woman sacked when you knew she hadn’t done anything wrong.’

Orion Black glared at his son with equal contempt. ‘Mrs McCleish was hardly a suitable person to hold such a responsible position within the Ministry.’

‘Why, did she do something wrong?’ Sirius shot back. ‘Or is it just because she’s Muggle-born?’

‘Mudbloods can’t be trusted,’ his father replied simply. ‘Why, it was only a matter of time before she had Muggle households connected to the Floo Network!’ 

‘If she’d done anything like that, she’d have been sacked anyway, and you wouldn’t have had to make up lies about her,’ said Sirius.

‘Don’t contradict your father.’ Walburga Black reprimanded him sharply. ‘You should be grateful that someone is taking a stand for decent wizarding values.’

‘If “decent wizarding values” means lying and cheating, I’ll pass, thanks all the same,’ said Sirius, temper rising. He knew it was pointless to argue with his parents—that they’d never listen to reason, anyway—but their bigotry and stupidity made his blood boil, and he could feel the bile rising at the back of this throat as he looked at the expression of cold, hard anger on his father’s face. The nauseating way that Regulus was smirking from across the other side of the dinner table wasn’t helping either.

‘You will hold your tongue, boy, and show us some respect,’ commanded Orion Black, his voice leaden with menace. ‘You’re not with those riff-raff you call friends now—blood-traitors and mudbloods, the lot of them.’ 

‘Don’t you talk about my friends like that!’

‘I will speak as I see fit at my own table and you will not contradict me!’ thundered Orion, banging his fist down on the table. Walburga gasped as the crockery jumped and a spray of red wine from a goblin-wrought silver goblet stained the white linen tablecloth, and Regulus’ smirk grew wider than ever. Sirius glared at all of them with loathing. ‘Now, either conduct yourself properly or get out of my sight,’ his father continued.

‘Fine!’ roared Sirius, standing up and upsetting his own barely-touched dinner plate. ‘You make me feel sick, anyway!’

Sirius realised that he sounded petulant and childish as soon as the words passed his lips, but he was too angry to express himself any more eloquently. He stormed out of the dining room and ran upstairs, taking care to slam every door as he went and stamping so heavily on the stairs that the mounted house-elf heads shook on the walls. He knew he was only making matters worse for himself, but he didn’t care. He’d be punished for talking back to his father anyway—may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.

It wasn’t that argument, or the lecture or the beating that followed it, nor the one after, nor the one after that. It wasn’t Kreacher ‘accidentally’ dropping his Aeolia Player or his mother confiscating every single letter delivered by the Potter family owl. It wasn’t the way Regulus laughed in his face and assured him that, yes, he really did mean it, every last word of their parents’ bigotry that he parroted. It wasn’t the arguments, the silences, the disapproval or the toxic hatred of anyone and everything different.

It was nothing in particular and all of it put together. Sirius had had enough.

~*~

The Potters were enjoying a quiet evening at home, listening to a travel documentary on the WWN, when their peace was shattered by a dishevelled boy with half a bowl of rice pudding in his hair, a gash on his forehead, and a hastily packed trunk by his side tumbling out of their fireplace, coughing up ash and Floo powder, and swearing under his breath.

Sirius sat upright on the hearth rug, grinning awkwardly at the three startled faces staring down at him. ‘I, um…’ he started. ‘Is it all right if I stay for a bit?’

‘’Course it is,’ said James, pulling Sirius to his feet. He wiped a spot of rice pudding (Kreacher’s parting gift) off Sirius’ cheek with his sleeve. ‘I take it you’ve eaten already?’

James’ parents agreed readily that Sirius could stay as long as he wanted, and though no-one ever said it in so many words, Sirius realised he was never going home again. He wasn’t ready to decide how he felt about that yet, so he simply accepted the Potters’ offers of warm milk and the spare room with polite murmurs of thanks, bathed and got ready for bed, barely speaking and trying not to think.

The Potters’ spare room couldn’t have been more different to his own room at—at Grimmauld Place, or even the dormitory at Hogwarts. It was light and airy, with white walls, well-worn furniture and a colourful quilt on the bed. Compared to the dark mahogany and bottle-green velvet at Grimmauld Place, it was like living in a cloud.

Sirius paced around the room uneasily, looking at the pictures of jasmine swaying in the breeze that hung on the walls, the soft muslin curtains and the ornately carved antique dresser. Well, Mrs Potter had told him to make himself at home, so Sirius dumped his clothes in a messy pile on the armchair the corner of the room and pinned a couple of his favourite posters on the wall next to the bed. His Aeolia Player took pride of place on the bedside table, along with his collection of songsheets and a couple of magazines. When he finished his warm milk, he left the mug on the floor. There, that was better already.

He still couldn’t settle once he got into bed, even after he turned the Aeolia Player on to listen to one of his favourite songs, the sound of Stubby’s voice low and gravelly for the ballad, and the liquid orange lights washing over him like a sunset. He considered transforming into a dog, but decided that it was too risky. He even thought about creeping down the hall to see James, but that would be tantamount to admitting he felt lonely or scared, which he absolutely did not.

Sirius lay on his back, watching the lights from the Aeolia player flickering across the ceiling and trying not to think about the past or the future, just wishing he could get to sleep so that he wouldn’t have to think at all. But the bed was too soft, his mind was too restless, and he was wide awake. _Perhaps a nice relaxing wank_ , he decided. He wasn’t feeling particularly horny, but he could do with the distraction.

The music was still playing as Sirius reached inside his pyjama bottoms and started to stroke himself absently. He tried to focus his mind on something sexual and remembered kissing Heliotrope as his cock grew hard in his hand. He closed his eyes and imagined another pair of hands instead of his own stroking his cock and fondling his balls. Stubby’s voice was crooning in his ear as his hand moved up and down, harder and faster as his breathing grew shallow and uneven, and he lost himself to the pleasures of touch, and sound, and his own fantasies.

The pictures in Sirius’ mind shifted as he became more aroused; he thought about his hands on someone else's prick as much other hands on his own. He imagined the scrap of stubble on his inner thigh as he fantasised about having his cock sucked, and even what it might be like to reciprocate. Sirius was shivering and desperate as the vague, blurred visions in his mind moved into focus and he imagined Stubby pressed against him, touching him, tasting him, feeling his cock. Sirius’ eyes shot open, and he came with a muffled sob, visions of Stubby filling his senses.

_Well, that was… surprising_ , Sirius thought as he reached for his wand to clean himself up. (The Potters may have been more liberal than the Blacks, but they still believed that things like the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Under-Age Sorcery were for other people.) He was still shaking slightly as he lay back on the pillows and tried to decide where… where all _that_ had come from. The final bars of the last track on the songsheet were playing, and the lights from the Aeolia player were starting to fade. It was just the music, Sirius told himself, and the fact that he associated Heliotrope with Stubby. Nothing to worry about. As he rolled over to turn the Aeolia Player off, the picture of Stubby on the wall grinned and winked at him. Sirius smiled and settled down to sleep at last, feeling more content than he had in weeks.

~*~

The remainder of the summer was pleasant and uneventful. Sirius played Quidditch in the garden with James, allowed Mrs Potter to fuss over and feed him coconut ladoo, and laughed at Mr Potter’s (truly horrendous) jokes. For the first time since he was eleven, Sirius didn’t count the days until September the first rolled around, though he was quick to deny any suggestion that he was remotely concerned about running into his parents on Platform 9¾.

When the day came, his friends clustered around him, forming a protective barrier until they bundled him into the train and not giving him the chance to even think about trying to talk to his parents. (He wasn’t going to, he really wasn’t.) Mr Potter clapped him on the back, and Mrs Potter made him promise to come back for Christmas, then kissed him on the cheek just as his own mother stopped staring and turned away in disgust.

Sirius decided he didn’t care.

~*~

Once the term started, Sirius quickly fell back into his old routine and was decidedly less anxious once everything was back to normal. Nothing had changed much since the year before except that Regulus completely ignored him now rather than sniping in the corridors. Sirius was happy to return the favour. The familiarity of hanging out with his friends, messing about in lessons and charming McGonagall in detention was comforting to Sirius, and he happily predicted that there would be no more upheavals in his life for a long time.

A front-page scandal in the _Daily Prophet_ changed all that.

It started out as a perfectly normal Tuesday morning. Sirius was hurriedly finishing off an essay for Professor Flitwick that was due in that morning, in between stuffing himself with jam and crumpets and bickering amiably with James about his latest ploy to woo the lovely Miss Evans. Remus was fretting over a test in History of Magic that afternoon, and Peter was trying to work out how to shell his boiled egg with magic. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.

It was a few minutes after the post owls arrived, depositing newspapers, letters from home and owl-order purchases across the Great Hall, that the atmosphere changed. The news seemed to create a buzz throughout the room, with scandalised whispers and giggles filling the air as students clustered around friends who subscribed to the _Daily Prophet_. There were gasps of shock and several girls—including Heliotrope—appeared close to tears.

It didn’t take long for the Marauders to realise that something was up. ‘What’s going on?’ asked Peter, nudging Sirius’ elbow and making him spill jam on his Charms essay.

‘Dunno,’ said Sirius, wiping the parchment with his elbow as he glanced up and down the Gryffindor table curiously. ‘I’ll go and see.’

He wandered down the table to stand behind a group of sixth year girls who were poring over the newspaper and talking animatedly. ‘Hey, Evans, what’s all the fuss about?’

Lily folded the newspaper quickly and looked up on him. ‘Just a story on the front of the _Daily Prophet_ ,’ she said.

‘Yeah, I’d worked that much out for myself,’ said Sirius. ‘So what is it?’

Lily smiled enigmatically. ‘Tell you what,’ she said, ‘you promise to keep Potter off my back for the rest of the day and I’ll give you the paper.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Sirius, making a mental note to make up some outlandish lie to tell James before they got to Charms.

‘There you go.’ Lily’s eyes twinkled with mischief as she handed the folded-up newspaper to Sirius. ‘I’m sure you’ll find it very… er, _enlightening_.’

‘Cheers.’ Sirius took the newspaper from her and headed off out of the Great Hall, dragging James off the bench as he went.

Sirius started to unfold the newspaper as he walked up the stairs towards the Charms classroom. When he saw the photograph on the front page, he stopped so abruptly that one of the students walking behind him crashed into him and nearly knocked him over the banister. Sirius hardly noticed; he was transfixed by the picture in front of him.

There, under the headline, ‘Hobgoblins frontman shocker: exclusive’ was a picture of Stubby outside what appeared to be some sort of nightclub. Stubby appeared not to have noticed the photographer — he was too busy grabbing his companion for a passionate kiss. His hot, fortunate, and — this would be why it was headline news — _male_ companion. Sirius blinked at the picture in disbelief — his hero, Stubby Boardman, was on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ , snogging a boy.

He might have stayed there gaping at the paper all day if James hadn’t realised that Sirius was trailing behind and gone back to chivvy him along.

‘C’mon, Padfoot, get a move on.’ James stopped on the stairs next to Sirius, glancing at the newspaper. ‘Well, that’s… quite a thing, isn’t it?’

Sirius didn’t answer. He was too busy staring at the newspaper in shock.

James’ eyes flitted between the newspaper and the expression on Sirius’ face. Eventually, he took the paper out of Sirius’ hands. ‘Whatever next, eh?’ he said with a wicked grin, and grabbed hold of Sirius by the arm to drag him to class.

Sirius spent the rest of the day in a state of shock, as did a number of Hobgoblins fans who appeared to be horrified by the news. In truth, Sirius wasn’t horrified or disgusted by the pictures, and he didn’t feel disappointed. He was jealous, really, and more than a little aroused. He wished it was him that Stubby was kissing, that Stubby would run his fingers through his hair and grope his arse, the way he did for that boy in the photo. Sirius could feel himself blushing as he tried to imagine how Stubby would feel, and taste, and smell. He closed his eyes and tried to picture himself in that boy’s place, with Stubby’s hands on his body and Stubby’s tongue in his mouth.

He wasn’t really surprised to realise that just thinking about it made him hard, and he was very glad of Hogwarts’ uniform robes and the heavy desk, though the frustration of not being able to reach for his cock and bring himself off was almost painful. The fantasies that he’d had about Stubby that first night he’d spent in the Potters’ house hadn’t gone away, but they’d been much easier to dismiss when they only happened when he was wanking. He’d kept the fantasy locked away and deliberately not thought about it the rest of the time, which allowed him to pretend that nothing was happening.

It wasn’t going to be so easy to pretend anymore.

The whole school knew about the story by lunchtime, and everyone seemed to have their own personal take on the matter, whether they were Hobgoblins fans or not. Groups of girls consoled each other that it was probably just a joke, or that Stubby just hadn’t found the right woman yet. Boys muttered darkly that any bloke who wore an earring in public had to be a poofter anyway, or that it was typical of queers to be such bloody exhibitionists, ramming it down everyone’s throat. Sirius privately thought he wouldn’t mind Stubby shoving it down _his_ throat, but he kept quiet about that.

Sirius did his best to ignore them all, but it was a lot harder not to get annoyed with the way James kept watching him over lunch, an expression of bemused curiosity on his face.

‘What?’ Sirius demanded at last, throwing his spoon down in his rhubarb and custard.

‘Nothing,’ said James, turning his attention back to his pudding.

‘Then stop bloody staring at me!’ snapped Sirius. Peter and Remus wisely backed off, but James just laughed. Infuriating bastard.

The gossip showed no sign of abating in the weeks that followed. Speculation ran rife not only about Stubby himself, but about any student who showed any sign of being a Hobgoblins fan; for male students in particular, admitting to liking the Hobgoblins became little short of a public declaration of homosexuality. Several students who’d previously been big admirers of the Hobgoblins now claimed to have lost all interest.

‘Wankers,’ Heliotrope muttered to him in the common room one evening. ‘A real fan wouldn’t let something like that bother them.’

‘Yeah,’ Sirius agreed readily. He still wore his Hobgoblins t-shirt when he wasn’t in uniform and listened to their songs as often as before. It was an act of defiance, he told himself.

‘Look, have you seen this?’ Heliotrope asked, pulling a battered copy of _Witch Weekly_ out of her bag.

Sirius wrinkled his nose. ‘Funnily enough, no, I’m not a regular reader of _Witch Weekly_ ,’ he said, which was almost true. Sometimes weeks would go by before one of the girls left a copy in the common room.

Heliotrope pressed on undeterred. ‘It says that Stubby’s doing an exclusive interview for _Queerditch Chronicle_ ,’ she said, pointing to a short article in her magazine. ‘It’ll be out next week.’

‘Ah,’ said Sirius slowly. ‘I take it _Queerditch Chronicle_ would be an, um—’

‘—a gay magazine, yes,’ Heliotrope finished for him. ‘They can put a Charm on the cover so no-one knows what it is when it arrives if you ask them to. Anyway, I just thought I’d let you know. About the interview, I mean.’ She stashed her magazine back in her bag and made to leave. ‘See you later, then?’

‘Oh, yeah.’ Sirius smiled. He realised he liked Heliotrope a lot better now she’d stopped trying to snog him. ‘Thanks.’

Sirius sent off an order for _Queerditch Chronicle_ by owl post, which duly arrived the following week disguised, as requested, as a promotional magazine for Hathorian’s, the music shop in Symphonic Alley. Sirius slipped the magazine into his satchel unopened, though he noticed that he wasn’t the only person getting an unusual, but discreetly packaged, delivery that morning.

The magazine seemed to be burning as he carried it around in his schoolbag all day. He couldn’t say why he was so eager to read it—far more so than any of the other interviews Stubby had ever given, and that was saying something. His stomach twisted with nervous anticipation, and he felt almost overwhelmed with expectation… for what, exactly? Somehow, Sirius felt sure that Stubby would be able to put his mind at rest.

He didn’t get a moment’s peace all day. Even after lessons were finished, there was work to be done on the Map, and James wanted to discuss Quidditch tactics with him. Sirius couldn’t get away without arousing suspicion. He ended up reading the interview at midnight, when the other boys in the dorm had gone to sleep, sitting up with the curtains pulled tightly around his bed, his wand casting a dim glow over the magazine.

Stubby didn’t really say anything especially unusual or profound in the interview, but as Sirius read it he felt like the last pieces in an extremely complex jigsaw puzzle were falling into place. The interview talked about Stubby’s childhood, his lack of interest in girlfriends at Hogwarts and the way he always felt sort of empty when he tried dating girls. Stubby said that he first suspected he was gay when he developed a terrible crush on the Head Boy, a strapping six-foot Ravenclaw beater, who Stubby was sure would have clubbed him to death with a library book if he’d had the least idea of all the dirty fantasies Stubby was having about him. 

Sirius squirmed a little when he read about Stubby’s first kiss behind the Hog’s Head and how his heart was broken when his first boyfriend left him to get married. (‘Bastard wasn’t good enough for him,’ Sirius muttered into the darkness.) Stubby didn’t even seem to mind being forcibly outed by the _Daily Prophet_ ; he said that they could print whatever salacious stories they liked for all he cared. He knew who he was, and he wasn’t ashamed of it.

The whole thing made Sirius even more admiring of Stubby than ever. Stubby was brave, and clever, and talented, and if he was gay too… well, there obviously wasn’t anything wrong with that either.

‘You’re perfect,’ Sirius whispered to the smiling photograph of Stubby in the magazine. He kissed the picture goodnight, put out the light from his wand, and lay down to sleep with a smile playing on his lips and the magazine tucked under his pillow.

~*~

Admitting to himself and (in a way) to Stubby that he was gay was one thing; broadcasting the fact any further afield was another matter entirely. Sirius still wasn’t entirely sure that he _was_ gay—maybe it was just Stubby who had this effect on him?

He read the rest of _Queerditch Chronicle_ , paid close attention to the relative merits of the male and female Quidditch players when Slytherin played Ravenclaw at the weekend, and amused himself by deciding which of the random Hufflepuffs he bumped into the corridors he’d most like to get off with. With a few notable exceptions, the male options almost always seemed preferable. (Sirius decided that no matter what else, he’d sooner shag the female Ravenclaw chasers than the male Slytherin beaters—gay or no, he did have some principles. Besides which, the Slytherin beaters were a right pair of trolls.) None of them inspired Sirius’ interest quite the way Stubby did, but that was only to be expected. Stubby was special.

So, boys in general, and Stubby in particular. Perhaps he’d best keep that to himself for a while, though—after all, it’s not as though anyone was likely to guess that he fancied Stubby, Sirius told himself.

Of course, what Sirius overlooked was that, with his gift for subtlety, him liking Stubby was second only to James’ crush on Lily in the list of Worst Kept Secret Passions. It was only a matter of time before everyone worked it out.

~*~

James, Sirius and Remus were sitting in the dormitory working on the Map, piles of textbooks, parchments covered in scribbles and pumpkin pasties (brain food) lying all around them, when Peter burst into the room, breathless and flushed and waving a piece of parchment.

‘Got it,’ he panted, flopping down on the end of Sirius’ bed. ‘Although I still don’t see why we have to know exactly what the insides of the girls’ bathrooms look like.’

‘The Map’s got to be fully comprehensive,’ said Remus without looking up from his own scribbles. ‘We can’t go missing bits off just because it’s a bit embarrassing to go and research them.’

Sirius took the parchment from Peter and inspected the drawing on it with a frown. ‘What took you so long, anyway?’ he asked.

‘I got cornered by Julia Hopkins,’ Peter answered. ‘Took me nearly half an hour to shake her off.’

‘So, you’ve been off seducing girls in the toilets while we’ve been up here working our backsides off, and you expect us to feel sorry for you?’ called James from the other side of the dormitory. ‘Not a chance, mate.’

‘I wasn’t seducing her!’ Peter cried indignantly, sitting bolt upright. ‘It’s Padfoot she’s after. She was pumping me for information.’

‘Well, that sounds… painful,’ said James, suppressing a slight shudder. ‘I still don’t know why it took you so long. Why didn’t you just tell her that Padfoot’s a _Stubby Boardman fan_ and be done with it.’

Sirius looked up suddenly. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You know,’ said James, looking straight at him. ‘You are, aren’t you?’

Sirius dropped his gaze and looked down at his knees. He never was much good at lying. ‘Yeah,’ he said quietly.

The dormitory was completely quiet for a few moments, the atmosphere thick and heavy. Sirius felt nauseated.

Eventually, Remus broke the silence. ‘C’mon, Wormtail,’ he said as he stood up. ‘I’m bored of pumpkin pasties. Let’s go and get something else from the kitchen.’

‘But I’ve—’ Peter started to complain, but then broke off, his eyes flickering between Sirius and James. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Oh, yeah, right, good idea.’

‘Can’t even stand to stay in the same room as me, can you?’ Sirius shot bitterly as Remus and Peter headed for the door.

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Remus. ‘It’s just…’ He stopped talking and fidgeted with the door handle, apparently unable to say what it was. ‘Look, nothing’s going to stop us being friends with you, right?’

He turned to Peter, who nodded vigorously but didn’t speak.

‘So,’ Remus continued awkwardly. ‘We’ll bring you back some pudding, yeah? Right, good… um, well. Yeah. See you later then.’

‘See you,’ Sirius mumbled as they disappeared out the door. He still didn’t feel up to looking at James, instead choosing to curl himself into a ball against the headboard of his bed with his legs drawn up to his chest and his forehead resting on his knees. It was a couple of minutes before he felt movement at the end for the bed, telling him that James had sat down.

‘You don’t have to keep hiding from me, you know,’ James said softly.

‘I’m not hiding,’ said Sirius, looking up and glaring at James defiantly. He tried to ignore the tight knot of fear that was forming in his stomach.

‘Good,’ said James. ‘Because I’m not going to turn against you because you’re, you know…’

‘Bent?’ suggested Sirius. ‘Queer? A fairy? A cock-sucker, an arse bandit, a chutney ferret, a fruit, a—’

‘Stop it!’ said James. ‘Don’t say… don’t say those words.’

‘Why not?’ asked Sirius. ‘It’s not like you’ve never used them before.’

It was true, of course. They’d all used them—casual insults thrown out with no real thought to their meaning, just a quick and easy way to cause offence to friends and enemies alike.

‘Yeah, maybe,’ James admitted. ‘But I’d never say that about you.’

‘Right,’ muttered Sirius, looking away.

‘I mean it,’ insisted James. ‘Look, Padfoot, you’re my best friend, and if you’re, well, gay, then I’m OK with that.’

Sirius looked back at him, still anxious, but a little more hopeful. ‘Really?’

‘Really,’ said James firmly. ‘I mean, it’s not like you’ve gone and done something really disgusting, like deciding to start supporting the Tornadoes or something.’

Sirius laughed despite himself. ‘Never fear, mate. I’m not a complete moral degenerate.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ said James with a grin. He crawled up the bed and sat on the pillow next to Sirius, glancing at the poster of Stubby on the wall as he sat down. ‘So, what is it with Boardman, anyway?’ he asked, eyeing the poster appraisingly. ‘I mean, I suppose he’s not bad-looking if you like that sort of thing…’

‘That’s the point, isn’t it?’ said Sirius. ‘I do like that sort of thing.’

‘Yeah, s’pose,’ said James. ‘Funny, that.’

Sirius fidgeted and chewed his lip. ‘Are you sure you’re all right about this?’

‘Yes!’ said James. ‘Look, I told you it’s _fine_.’ Sirius looked at him disbelievingly. ‘It is,’ James insisted. ‘I mean, OK, it’s a bit weird, but it’s not as if it comes as a complete surprise.’

‘Doesn’t it?’

‘Nah,’ said James brightly. ‘I mean, half the girls in the school spent most of last year throwing themselves at you, but you were always too busy swooning over Boardman to even notice. You are kind of obvious.’

‘I don’t swoon!’

‘Oh, but you do,’ teased James. ‘You go all pink and doe-eyed and get this silly soppy grin whenever anyone talks about him.’

‘Do I, bollocks,’ retorted Sirius. ‘Anyway, you’re a fine one to talk about going doe-eyed, _Prongs._ ’

‘You’re practically blushing right now.’

‘Am not!’

‘You _luurve_ him,’ James sing-songed.

‘You know, your attempts to embarrass me would be a lot more effective if they weren’t coming from someone who acts like a complete twat whenever they catch sight of the lovely Miss Evans.’

‘Ah, Evans,’ sighed James. ‘With her emerald eyes and flame-like tresses! One day she will be mine!’

‘Pfft.’ Sirius snorted. ‘I’ve got a better chance of getting it on with Stubby than you have of seducing Evans.’

‘Bollocks you have,’ said James. ‘At least I’ve _met_ Evans.’

‘Ah, but that’s what gives me the advantage,’ explained Sirius. ‘At least I haven’t managed to make Stubby hate me with the fire of a thousand Heliopaths.’

‘Evans doesn’t hate me,’ James insisted fervently. ‘She’s just playing hard to get.’

‘You’re delusional.’

‘No, just confident,’ said James. ‘Bet you a galleon I manage to pull Evans before you get to snog Boardman.’

‘You’re also insane.’

‘You’re chicken.’

‘Fine, you’re on.’ Sirius smiled. (It was the thought of kissing Stubby. He couldn’t help himself.)

‘I don’t know what you’re looking so cheerful about,’ James informed him breezily. ‘You can’t possibly hope to win.’

‘Maybe not,’ admitted Sirius. ‘But I don’t expect to lose either.’

~*~

Being out of the closet, so to speak, didn’t really change things a great deal, to Sirius' relief. For the first few days, James, Remus and Peter all seemed to be making a conscious effort to treat him as normal, which was all a bit embarrassing. Luckily, they got tired of it eventually and reverted back to behaving almost exactly as they always had done because they couldn’t be bothered to do anything else, which made things much easier. Sirius took care to only use the bathroom when he was sure that no-one else was in the shower and there was a bit less dressing and undressing in the dorm-room - at least until Sirius thanked his friends for their kind efforts in not putting him back off men. 

The only real change was that Sirius had to put up with James teasing him about his crush on Stubby (and James did tease him mercilessly), but he supposed he deserved it for laughing at all the knockbacks James had taken from Lily over the previous two years. He even got asked out by other boys a couple of times—well, propositioned, really—but Sirius always said no. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with any of them, it was just that no-one seemed as nice as Stubby.

Everything pretty much bobbed along as normal until the _Daily Prophet_ brought earth shattering news about the Hobgoblins for the second time in one term. Sirius was stumbling into the Great Hall, late for breakfast, when he was met by the dancing, squealing form of Heliotrope Hexington, her long dark hair and arms flying as she waved a newspaper in her hands.

‘Look!’ she shouted excitedly, thrusting the paper under Sirius’ nose. ‘Look!’

‘What?’ Sirius blinked irritably. He’d overslept, and he really didn’t feel up to any sort of conversation until he’d had his morning jam and crumpets. Taking the newspaper from Heliotrope, he peered at the article, squinting to focus with sleep-encrusted eyes. What he read woke him up quickly enough:

_Hobgoblins set for special Christmas performance in Hogsmeade_

Sirius let out a wholly undignified squeal, grabbed Heliotrope and spun her around. ‘That’s fantastic!’

‘Isn’t it?’ agreed Heliotrope excitedly, bobbing up and down on the spot. ‘There’s only one small problem—it’s the last Saturday before the end of term and it’s not a Hogsmeade weekend.’

‘So?’ asked Sirius. He didn’t set a great deal of store by school rules at the best of times, but no way on Earth was he going to let them stop him _actually seeing Stubby performing live and in the flesh_!

‘So, the teachers will know it’s happening and are bound to check up to make sure we don’t sneak out,’ Heliotrope explained. ‘No, we’ll have to get permission first. Ask McGonagall. Or Dumbledore, even.’

Sirius looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Better yet, I’ll get Remus to ask McGonagall. For some reason, she always gets suspicious when I ask her anything.’

‘Good idea,’ said Heliotrope. ‘I’ll get Lily to ask as well.’

‘It’ll be fine,’ said Sirius. ‘I’m sure we’ll be allowed.’ He refused to entertain the possibility that _anything_ would stop him going to see the Hobgoblins.

‘It will.’ Heliotrope nodded her head. ‘Oh, it’s so _exciting_!’

Sirius thought it really, really was.

~*~

At dinner that evening, Professor Dumbledore announced that students in the fourth year and above would be allowed to attend the Hobgoblins concert if they wished, provided that their behaviour for the month preceeding the event was exemplary. Any misbehaviour by students would result in detentions on the night of the concert, which he would personally supervise.

‘Oh sweet Merlin, I’m going to see the Hobgoblins!’ said Sirius, who had been positively bouncing in his seat with excitement the whole time the Headmaster was speaking. ‘This is going to be the best thing ever!’

‘Only if you manage to behave yourself,’ Remus reminded him as he passed the gravy to James. ‘Do you really think you can go for an entire month without landing yourself in detention, Padfoot?’

‘Where there’s a will there’s a way,’ announced Sirius confidently. ‘I can be good if I want to.’

Sirius took mortal offence at his friends’ expressions of disbelief. ‘What?’ he sputtered indignantly. ‘I _can_.’

True to his word, Sirius developed an ability to behave himself and keep out of mischief that amazed his friends and slightly scared his teachers. Homework was handed in on time, fights were avoided, opportunities for pranks went unheeded, he turned up on time and in proper uniform for every single lesson and stayed awake through nearly all of them. Dozens of Slytherins who were practically begging for a good hexing went unpunished, and Sirius was even caught performing various good deeds, such as helping younger students with their homework and volunteering to clean out the guinea pig cages in the Transfiguration department.

‘Am I the only one who finds the new, model-student Padfoot slightly disturbing?’ James asked Remus and Peter as Sirius hurried off behind Professor McGonagall, diligently carrying a stack of books for her.

‘It is all a bit unsettling,’ agreed Remus. ‘But then, Padfoot can do just about anything when he sets his mind to it. He’s just never had this sort of motivation before.’

Peter nodded in agreement. ‘It’s true,’ he said. ‘Although I do think carrying teachers’ books around is taking things a bit far.’

‘Well, he only does that for McGonagall,’ said Remus. ‘He always was a bit funny about her.’

‘Kind of ironic really,’ said James as he watched Sirius disappear around the corner to McGonagall’s office. ‘What with all the girls in school who’re convinced they could turn him straight, the only one that might actually manage it is a 50-something professor with a severe bun and a weakness for tartan.’

The strain of keeping out of trouble was almost exhausting for Sirius, but the thought of Stubby kept him going. Aside from sneaking out to the Shrieking Shack at full moon and subtly hexing Snape and Regulus a couple of times (even at the height of his obsession, Sirius realised there was such a thing as taking good behaviour too far), he didn’t break a single rule.

It was all worth it when the day of the concert rolled around.

‘Well, Padfoot, looks like you’ve made it,’ James told him as they queued for permission slips outside McGonagall’s office on Saturday morning. ‘You shall go to the ball.’

Sirius grinned. ‘I know! Isn’t it brilliant?’

‘It’s a miracle, that’s what it is,’ said Remus. ‘I hear heavy losses were incurred in the staff betting pool on whether you’d make it or not.’

‘Such are the motivating powers of love,’ said James. ‘It can turn even the most hardened mischief maker into a proper goody two-shoes.’

‘I noticed you three all managed to keep out of trouble as well,’ Sirius retorted.

‘We had to, mate,’ said James, slinging his arm over Sirius’ shoulders and addressing him in a mock-fatherly fashion. ‘Couldn’t have you going to see Stubby without us to look after you now, could we? Left unattended, you’d have only got carried away with the excitement of the thing and thrown your pants on the stage or something.’

Sirius would have had an excellent retort for that under normal circumstances, but he was temporarily distracted by James’ use of the words “Stubby” and “pants” in close proximity, so he just turned slightly pink and said nothing.

The rest of the day was spent preparing for the big event. It was the most exciting event in his life so far, and Sirius was determined to look his best (which was pretty damn good if Sirius did say so himself).

‘I suppose it’s true what they say about poofs and vanity then,’ James observed when Sirius emerged from the bathroom after a good wash and brush session, along with the extensive use of charms to give himself a light dusting of stubble. ‘You do realise that darling Stubby won’t even be able to see you from the stage, don’t you?’

Sirius huffed impatiently. ‘Yes, I know,’ he said. ‘It’s the principle of the thing. We don’t all want to go around looking like we’ve just been savaged by a pack of wild crups.’

‘Whatever you say,’ replied James, rifling through a pile of clothes on the floor and applying the sniff test to find a clean enough t-shirt.

Sirius rolled his eyes and stalked out of the dormitory. He spent most of the afternoon with Lily and Heliotrope, who helped him charm silver streaks into his hair, paint his fingernails black, and add a thick smudge of kohl over his eyes. James made the mistake of coming down to the common room just in time to see Lily sitting on Sirius’ lap to finish putting the eyeliner on and had to be forced by Remus and Peter to have a nice lie-down for half an hour to recover from the shock.

Finally, at seven o’clock it was time to go, and Sirius was ready. Having spent much of the previous month deliberating about his outfit, he sported a new cloak made out of red dragon-hide and worn open to display a pair of artfully ripped Muggle jeans and his favourite Hobgoblins t-shirt underneath. His heavy boots clanked with buckles and chains, and a brilliant red fire crab jewel dangled from his left ear.

‘How do I look?’ he asked his dorm-mates, giving them a quick twirl before they headed off.

‘Brilliant,’ said Peter approvingly, and Remus nodded in agreement.

‘Very pretty,’ said James, attempting to ruffle Sirius’ hair and receiving a venomous look for his trouble. ‘You’ll be the belle of the ball.’

Sirius didn’t really care about James teasing him—he was almost giddy with excitement. _In less than two hours I’ll be in the same room as Stubby_! he told himself. The anticipation was almost too much to bear.

The four boys headed off out of Gryffindor tower and across the school together, stopping only to show their permission slips to Filch as they passed the school gates. Sirius was positively a-quiver the whole way to Hogsmeade, and even the bitterly cold December winds couldn’t curb his enthusiasm.

There were dozens of Hogwarts students taking the long path to Hogsmeade, all dressed up in a wide variety of wizards’ and Muggle clothing. As they approached Hogsmeade Parish Hall, where the concert was to take place, James stopped dead in his tracks, grabbing Sirius by the arm and pointing at a group of girls standing by the entrance.

‘Is that Evans, there?’ he asked, and Sirius nodded. ‘Wearing a mini-skirt? And fishnets?’

‘Looks like it,’ Sirius agreed. ‘And to think, you wouldn’t have even come if it wasn’t for me. You might have missed it.’

James could only stare ahead of him, open mouthed. ‘I swear I will never say another word against you or against Stubby ever again,’ he said solemnly.

The inside of the Parish Hall was like nothing Sirius had ever seen before. Most of the room was in darkness, though the ceiling was lit by golden fire-flies. Thick clouds of reddish smoke swirled around the hall, and in each corner of the room there was a tall perch with a brilliant orange fwooper bird on top, their low, melodious cries echoing over the chatter of the crowd.

Peter and Remus were dispatched to fetch drinks from the stand at the back of the hall while James helped Sirius find a good spot in front of the stage. ‘I’m so excited,’ Sirius confessed for what must have been the hundredth time that day.

James smiled at him affectionately. ‘I know,’ he said, and he hugged Sirius briefly before Remus and Peter returned carrying bottles of butterbeer.

It was over an hour before the Hobgoblins took to the stage, and Sirius thought that the anticipation might actually kill him. He forgot all about that the moment the band stepped out and Stubby stood at the front of the stage, a mere couple of metres in front of him. Sirius felt sure his heart stopped beating for a moment.

The concert was amazing. Sirius had loved the Hobgoblins’ music from the first moment he heard them on the WWN, but he’d never imagined they would sound so much better live and right in front of him. He sang along with the rest of the hard-core fans in the audience, pogoing furiously and punching the air with his fist. All the time he never took his eyes off Stubby—beautiful, talented, wonderful Stubby, with his face glistening with sweat from the exertion of performing and his gorgeous voice. Sirius’ heart swelled and his eyes pricked with tears of joy. He was in heaven.

It was a shock stepping out into the quiet, icy streets of Hogsmeade after the heat and the noise of the show, but even the sub-zero temperatures and the emerging sleet didn’t dampen Sirius’ post-concert euphoria. He was positively bouncing off the walls.

‘We just saw the Hobgoblins,’ he babbled. ‘Wasn’t it _brilliant_?’

‘It was all right, I suppose,’ said James. Sirius stared at him. ‘OK, I’ll admit it, they were pretty good.’

‘They were amazing,’ said Sirius dreamily as he starting walking off.

‘Er, Padfoot?’ Remus stepped forward and grabbed him by the sleeve. ‘You’re going the wrong way. School’s this way,’ he added, pointing in the direction of the castle.

‘Not going back to school yet,’ Sirius told him, and continued to walk around the Parish Hall.

‘I think having to behave himself all of last month’s unsettled him,’ said Peter. ‘It’s like he’s got some sort of compulsion to break the rules, just because he can.’

‘Well, whatever he’s doing, we’re going after him,’ said James, setting off at a brisk pace to catch Sirius up, with Peter and Remus trailing after him.

‘Where are we going?’ James asked when he caught up with Sirius.

‘See that carriage there?’ said Sirius, pointing at a large shadow in the bushes about a hundred metres from the Parish Hall. ‘That’s the Hobgoblins tour bus. It’s pulled by thestrals.’

‘And we need to know this because…?’

‘Stubby and the rest of the band will be coming out of the back door in a bit to get in it,’ said Sirius. ‘I’m going to get his autograph.’

‘Um, OK,’ said James. ‘We’ll wait with you then, right?’ he glanced at Peter and Remus, who nodded their agreement, but without any real enthusiasm.

They had a long wait, and it was bitterly cold, but Sirius refused to budge. A handful of other students had had the same idea and joined the Marauders at the back of the Hall, but most of them gave up after a while and trudged reluctantly back to the castle. James, Peter and Remus all made half-hearted attempts to get Sirius to go back to school, but soon backed down, realising their efforts were pointless.

Eventually, after nearly two hours stamping the ground and hugging themselves to keep warm, they saw the back door open and the band walk out towards the carriage.

‘Stubby!’ yelped Sirius instinctively.

To his surprise and delight, Stubby turned his head and ambled over. ‘What can I do for you lads?’ he asked.

‘I… you… um…’ Sirius opened and closed his mouth, but couldn’t find it in himself to manage a coherent sentence. Stubby Boardman was standing _right in front of him_ , and he couldn’t think of a thing to say. He thought he might cry.

‘You all right?’ asked Stubby.

‘He’s just a bit… shy,’ Remus lied by way of explanation.

‘He really likes you,’ added James, looking at his best friend with a mixture of amusement and despair. ‘I think he’d like an autograph or something.’

Peter just sniggered in the background.

‘I think I can manage that,’ said Stubby, pulling a quill out of his back pocket. He reached out and held onto Sirius’ shoulder, then used the quill to sign his name on Sirius’ Hobgoblins t-shirt. ‘OK?’

‘Th—thank you,’ stammered Sirius. It was all he could do not to faint on the spot.

‘Oi, Stubby, get a move on,’ called a voice from down the track. It was “Crazy Feet” MacKenzie , the Hobgoblins’ drummer. ‘We’re late enough as it is.’

‘Yeah, coming,’ Stubby called over his shoulder. ‘Well, hope you enjoyed the show. And, er, don’t let him operate any heavy machinery, yeah?’

Sirius watched Stubby turn and walk away, his excitement mixed with acute desperation. He’d finally met Stubby Boardman, and he was going to let his idol walk away thinking he was a complete twat. Sirius couldn’t allow that to happen. He took a deep breath to steel his nerves—he had to act quickly.

‘Wait!’ he called out, running forwards. He could hear James groaning loudly behind him, but he didn’t care. This might be his only chance, and he was damned if he was going to let it slip through his fingers.

Stubby stopped and turned around, raising his eyebrow slightly as he looked at Sirius.

‘I—’ Sirius was panting slightly when he stopped in front of Stubby, though he’d only run a few paces. ‘I think you’re fucking ace,’ he blurted out. Then, screwing up all his courage, he reached out, grabbed Stubby and kissed him on the mouth.

Sirius fully expected Stubby to push him away and laugh, but amazingly, incredibly, wonderfully, he did nothing of the sort. Instead, he kissed Sirius back.

Sirius let out a muffled yelp of surprise as he felt Stubby’s hand cup his head, fingers entwined in Sirius’ hair, and he was even more surprised when he felt Stubby’s tongue slip inside his mouth. The stubble on Stubby’s face was pleasantly rough against his skin, and Stubby tasted of Firewhiskey and tobacco—dirty, thrilling and sexual. Stubby’s other hand moved down to stroke his arse, and Sirius nearly fainted dead away on the spot.

‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ Stubby grinned when he pulled away. He looked at Sirius appraisingly. ‘In fact… how old are you, anyway?’

‘I’m ninet—’ 

‘He’s _six_ teen,’ said James from behind him.

Stubby frowned. ‘Ah, well,’ he said. ‘Come back and see me again in a couple of years.’ He tucked a lock of Sirius’ hair back behind his ear and grinned again, his gold tooth glinting in the moonlight. Then he turned and walked away, and this time he didn’t stop until he was inside the carriage, which took off moments later.

Sirius just stood and stared, thunderstruck.

‘Well, Prongs,’ said Remus after a long silence. ‘Looks like you owe Padfoot a galleon.’

‘Looks that way,’ agreed James, grabbing Sirius by the shoulder and turning him back towards school. ‘Come on then, lover-boy. Let’s get you back home.’

It took Remus and James’ combined efforts to get Sirius moving again. When he did start walking, he was in a complete daze.

‘He _kissed_ me,’ Sirius whispered breathlessly.

‘Yes, yes, we know,’ said James. ‘There’ll be no living with him after this, you know,’ he added, more for Remus and Peter’s benefit than anything else. ‘We’re never going to hear the end of it.’

Sirius barely even heard him; he was too caught up in the memory of Stubby’s kiss, the feeling of being pressed against him, the taste of his mouth. ‘I’m never going to brush my teeth again.’


End file.
